


The Wide Quietness

by BishopDeaconCardinal



Series: Another Monument. Neat. [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Drugs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rimming, Sex, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-23 19:10:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21325198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BishopDeaconCardinal/pseuds/BishopDeaconCardinal
Summary: Deacon pushes everyone away so much it surprises him when MacCready pushes back.
Relationships: Deacon/Robert Joseph MacCready
Series: Another Monument. Neat. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566010
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	1. Thy Secrets Should Be Sung

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Ode to Psyche by Keats

He cracked the knuckles on his right hand. Deliberately slow enough to hurt before shaking it out and picking up his gun. 

Lefties weren't uncommon. But it was an identifier. 

He could aim with his right nearly as well as his left now. 

He rubbed at the nosepiece of his sunglasses where the sweat was collecting and turned back to where she was standing.

"You good, Deacon?" River asked.

He laughed and nodded and joked and fired and was who she needed him to be. 

***

MacCready didn't like him. 

Deacon loved that.

He egged him on, pushed his limits, tested him.

MaCready made it almost a month. Deacon had to give him credit. Most made it less than a week under this sort of attention.

He thinks it's because he mentioned his kid.

MacCready hauled off to punch him in the face. Deacon caught his fist and twisted his arm behind him forcing MacCready onto his knees. "Wooooah. Simmer, little buddy."

MacCready snarled trying to remove himself from the hold. Deacon yielded and he was up on his feet, ''What's your problem?"

"Chill out." Deacon smiled.

"You've got such a complex. No one knows who you are to the point where you don't even know!" He left the shell of a home they'd been fighting in.

Deacon watched him leave. 

That had been...uncomfortably close.

***

He fell asleep under an oak. It was old and big, reaching up slowly towards the sky. 

His gun was balanced on his knee, poised to shoot, right hand holding steady. 

He was leaning back against the tree, dark sunglasses dipping the shade a level darker as he slowly fell away from the rhythmic sound of MacCready cleaning his gun. 

He hadn't slept in days. They'd been hunting...someone? Kidnappers? He didn't remember. 

He was the kind of tired where his fingertips were numb and the ground didn't stay where it was supposed to when he walked. 

He woke up to a distant barking as Dogmeat bounded back with his master from where she had scouted ahead.

MacCready said nothing as he offered him his canteen. Deacon took it as the dog launched itself into MacCready's lap. 

Deacon drank as the German Shepherd covered the canteen owner in kisses.

After a moment they collected their things to continue following River where she had scouted. 

Deacon handed the water back.

MacCready held it a moment in the exchange of it between them and asked "Who's Des?"

"Sister."

"'Is that so?" he asked suspiciously. 

Deacon laughed, "Nope."

***

MacCready never asked him about it again. He did start carrying a separate canteen for Deacon. 

Most people probably wouldn't have noticed but Deacon isn't most people.

"Mine has a blue ring," he gestured. "Why does mine have a blue ring and yours has a green?"

MacCready looked down at his pack where the bottles hung off. "What?"

He wanted to stop pushing. Wanted to show restraint. Let MacCready play dumb. 

He didn't. "Whenever you offer me water you give it to me from a different bottle. Scared of my cooties, Mac?"

MacCready rolled his eyes. "Uh huh. Terrified."

Deacon watched him, waited for him to snap but it never came.

He pushed.

"What's your first name?"

Immediate. "What's yours?"

"Fair enough. What's your kids?" push push push.

'Fuck off!' there it was.

***

"You tell me to fuck off a lot for someone who doesn't like to swear." He'd left him alone for awhile. They'd walked in silence together for days.

"Do you think you wouldn't have given me the run around if I'd said ' frick off'?" he said pointedly.

"Now I feel bad." Deacon said in a sad tone but smiling. 

MacCready gasped, "The tin man feels?"

Deacon laughed his real laugh for the first time in ages. 

***

"Can you swear in other languages?"

MacCready took his hat off, having just sat down at their base camp for the night. He sighed through his nose and ran his fingers through his hair before grumbling, "What?"

Deacon laughed and sat next to him. "Merde. Scheisse. That sort of thing."

"Are you spouting gibberish?" He took off his jacket for the night.

Deacon paused a long moment before a thought occurred to him. "Can you read?"

It was sincere and void of pity. 

MacCready stared for a moment. He sighed again. "What? Yeah? I mean well enough. I read comic books. Lot of...lot of context clues though," he shrugged. "Why?"

Deacon wrestled his pack over and pulled out a book. "Here. It's my favourite."

MacCready took it and traced the indent of the title on the cover. "I'll struggle through it. Probably won't appreciate most of it."

"Circle what's confusing," He handed him a pencil. "I'm serious."

He stared at the book in his hands a long moment before letting a small sincere smile cross his face. "Thanks."

***

Whenever she left them to scout ahead or to watch over a settlement for the day the book would come out. 

They'd go over his circled words and underlined phrasing. 

Deacon made an effort not to make him feel stupid or allow him to become frustrated. 

They were halfway through the book at Sanctuary when MacCready pulled out a comic book and offered it to him sheepishly. "I collect them," he said by way of explanation. 

Deacon was...touched. 

He read it while MacCready struggled through the next chapter. 

"So this is surprisingly well drawn," He commented. He'd read a few here and there, but not this one.

"I mean yeah. The beginning was the best. The main artist quit like halfway through and it became super shi-bad for like ten issues. This is its prime," MacCready said leaning over to see where Deacon was in it.

"Fuck. I've literally never heard you talk that much about something with a smile." MacCready seemed to emotionally retreat at Deacons words. "I like it."

He relaxed a little. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

***

He mouthed off to some raiders. Their leader punched him so hard she hurt her own hand. He saw double a moment. 

The raider holding him laughed as he sucked the blood out from his now loose teeth. 

"Good shot. Broke my sunglasses. Ruined my aesthetic. And quite frankly I'm a sucker for a signature look." He was lucky glass didn't go into his skin from where the broken lenses hung off his quickly purpling eye. 

"Do you ever shut up?" the leader snapped. She reeled back to hit him when she went down.

The grip of the raider holding him tightened to the point of pain. 

Deacon spoke to him. "Say goodnight, Gracie."

He didn't have time to get out a "What?" before he was also taken out.

The rest of the raiders scrambled for cover as a crack shot picked them off. 

Deacon smiled towards the way of the sniper.

Two more raiders fell and Deacon could imagine that was MacCready smiling back.

***

He was guiding Deacon by his good arm back to the camp. 

They put his shoulder back into place when MacCready got to him. Still fucking hurt even in the sling they'd fashioned. 

"Your eyes are like...really beautiful? What the heck, man?" MacCready said once camp was visible in the distance.

"Aww, flatterer. " He'd discarded the broken glasses before they'd set his shoulder. 

"I'm serious. Like the freaking sky or something. Super blue. I thought maybe you had a robotic eye or something weird. But they're just pretty. What gives?" Deacon noticed he'd slowed their walking pace, trying to stretch out the time he got to grill him.

"They're distinct. I can't be distinct. Just gotta blend into the background." Truth? Why was he telling the truth?

"Subtle? You think you're subtle? I could pick you out of a line up for weirdly bald sunglass wearing jerks, He smiled. 

"That's just because you like me," he stated matter of factly. 

"Eh. You're alright. Pretty eyes, terrible  _ terrible  _ personality," He laughed.

Deacon had been a Lot of things. Never been 'alright' before.

***

"You're filling out, RJ. Someone wife you up?"

"Move along, Ty," MacCready said with some familiarity to the third rail patron. 

"Wish it been me," Ty said with a laugh.

Deacon raised his eyebrows under his sunglasses. "He seemed friendly."

"Ty is mostly harmless. Just don't compete in any bar games against him. That game where you try to avoid your own hand and stab the table? Absolute pro." He leaned back and took a long drink of beer.

"So is it true? Someone wife you up?" Deacon said straight traced at the dumb phrasing. 

MacCready sighed, as he was prone too. "No. I'm just eating more regularly." he then chuckled a bit. "You know what? Yes. I'm in a platonic relationship with River when she isn't busy screwing Hancock and she yells at me to eat. Is that marriage?"

"You tell me, brother. Never been held down that way." He could barely see MacCready's reaction through the low lighting and the sunglasses.

"Bull."

"Oh-ho?" Deadon shouldn't have been walking this line. Too close again. Too close to the truth.

"You've got a small wedding ring in your pack. I saw it."

Deceive, avoid,  _ lie _ .

"Holding it for River. She kept losing it."

"She has hers. I've asked," He replied calmly but with conviction. 

"Aren't you curious." he said knowing his voice would be the last to betray his panic. "How'd you even see it? It was-"

"In the ammo bag in the I.D pocket. Yeah." He took another sip, "Where I keep Lucy's."

He paused and really looked at MacCready. "Lucy?"

"Yeah. You know for my son to exist it required two of us." He gave a bitter laugh. "Well for the first part."

Deacon knew that feeling. Felt it deep and painful like a knife twist. The anger, the upset, the torn away relationship, the bleeding heart. 

His palms felt slick with blood as he adjusted his grip on the machete. 

He blinked and found the condensation on the beer bottle wetting his palm where he'd been holding too tight.

"You ok, man?" MacCready asked quietly. 

He choked on air a moment then looked back at him. "Yeah. Sorry. Yeah," He paused a long moment. "Barbara."

MacCready said nothing till his bottle was empty. "Next rounds on me."

***

"Come on, baby, please?" she tried again hanging off Deacons shoulder. 

Deacon gently removed himself from the prostitute's grip. "I'm good, really."

He let the group walk forward then pushed some caps into her hands. "I'm just saying, you should be charging more."

She brightened at the caps, "So you'll fuck me-"

He shook his head, "No. Call it a gift for allowing me the pleasure to look upon a woman so beautiful." he took her hand and kissed her knuckles. "Until we meet again." She giggled and let him go.

MacCready had waited up for him. "Didn't want to have a nice night?"

"Real identifiable birthmark. It looks like a skull and crossbones. Sort of a turn off," He said rubbing his own chest where the pretend birthmark lay.

MacCready laughed. "You still paid her though."

"We've all been there." he shrugged. 

"'Whoring ourselves out?"

"Oh yeah. I was the Top Trick in Diamond City for years." He posed momentarily in an overly suggestive manner. 

MacCready laughed again. "I can't say your experiences are shared but good for you I guess."

Deacon did some more poses and MacCready chuckled. 

"Do you think I'm pretty, Mac?" he pouted his lips and batted his eyelashes (not that MacCready could see them) with a hand on his own cheek. 

"Uh-huh." he said good naturedly. "Prettier with the glasses off."

"Even better with my pants off " Deacon said resuming pace.

"Couldn't say I knew." MacCready shrugged.

"Would you like to find out, sailor?" he copied the prostitutes pose, hands trapped across his shoulders.

"How much to get you to get off of me?" He said stopping to let Deacon hang on him.

"What's wrong? Close your eyes you can't tell if it's a boy or girl." He made an obnoxious kissing noise but relented when MacCready pushed him off.

"Not the problem. I'm just not interested in your services." MacCready said picking up his pace to catch up.

Deacon grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, because  _ Not the problem? _ , "Wait are you gay?"

MacCready sputtered, "What? No! of course not! I was married! I have a son!"

"Sore spot. Yikes. Sorry." He eased up.

MacCready shuffled a bit. "I'm not."

"I believe you."

He seemed to lighten a bit at that before hesitantly moving forward with, "I mean. I don't think I am. I've never been. I don't know. It's. complicated."

Deacon nodded. "Yeah. You're good. I was just being obnoxious. I am. Gay I mean. Very very gay."

MacCready shoved him. 'You are not.'

'Well I mean. Depends on the day.'

That got MacCready to laugh again. Deacon felt something loosen in his chest. "Oh yeah? What's it today?"

"Today gay. Super very much gay."he smiled 

"Wonder what tomorrow holds."

"Yeah." he said so quietly it was almost to himself "Me too."

***

They were assigned to protect the southernmost settlement that River had claimed. A father and two kids. 

Deacon had noticed MacCready had been on edge the whole time since he'd seen the kids. He'd even stopped smoking in front of them. 

Ultimately Deacon was glad they were there. The super mutants were strong, smarter than most and angry. They also had fucking miniguns. 

They started after the little girl when she was tending the garden. 

She got away only because of MacCready. He was on the super mutants back so fast, knife drawn, Deacon hadn't even seen where he'd come from. 

MacCready dispatched most of them with some help from Deacon. Threat neutralized. MacCready sent word to River over the family's ham radio then stalked off. 

Deacon went off in the direction he'd gone after he'd been away for over an hour. 

He found him awkwardly twisting trying to sew a long cut on his back up.

"Hey. Like, I can help you with that," he called out.

He watched MacCready seem to stab himself on accident in surprise. He looked up horrified. "No! No. I'm. You should go. You can't be here."

Deacon squinted, both distance and darkness making it hard to make him out. 

He took off his sunglasses and waited for his eyes to adjust as MacCready was dragging his jacket around himself. 

"I'm no doctor but I can suture a wound pretty well." He said stepping closer slowly, like MacCready was a wild animal he was trying to tame. 

"I said no. I'm fine." He clutched at his jacket.

Deacon frowned. "You ok?"

"Yes! I just -"

"Are bleeding through your jacket."

MacCready looked down. Deacon could see his spirit actively being crushed.

"Don't. Don't tell anyone," he muttered.

He moved his jacket and handed Deacon the needle. 

"Aw man, this is all fucked." Deacon said and MacCready looked ready to bolt. "I'm going to have to redo all these stitches."

"It's an awkward angle," MacCready grumbled. 

"Ask for help next time. This could have healed really shitty if I wasn't here. I don't give a shit what you're worried I'll care about." he started easing the first sutures up. "I don't. For the record. Care. I don't care."

MacCready tentatively nodded. 

"How'd this happen? I thought you were holding the knife."

MacCready groaned in the back of his throat, "Did you know that this is in fact not the only knife in the world?"

Deacon laughed, "Bullshit." He pushed up the edge of the chest binder to get at the top of the wound. "This is going to tickle."

"Lies."

Deacon gasped, "Disbelief pray tell."

***

He fell asleep before River came to get them. 

He woke up with his hands around MacCready's neck. 

"Deacon! Deacon it's me! It's me!" He was gasping and clawing at his hands.

Deacon let go immediately. "Oh God." He moved away from him. "Shitfuck I'm so sorry."

MacCready rubbed at his throat. "You awake? You ok?"

Deacon thought the sound of heavy breathing was MacCready trying to get his breath back before realising it was coming from his own throat. 

"Hey." MacCready gently approached him, one hand on his throat and the other reaching out to gently touch Deacons leg. "It's ok. Its-. Well whatever you were dreaming about wasn't ok. It probably sucked. But you're safe.Your're here. I'm here. It's ok."

Deacon swallowed heavily then nodded.

"You want to talk about it?" he moved closer slowly, hand dropping from his throat.

"Does anybody ever want to talk about it?"

MacCready gave a tired laugh, "Not really."

Deacon wiped his eyes under his sunglasses "Not really."

***

"You can sleep next to me," he offered once they'd finally arrived back in Sanctuary.

Deacon smirked,"'Kinky! Didn't know you were into choking."

"Jerk. Sleeping near people keeps away nightmares," MacCready tilts his head. "I already know you talk in your sleep. I just don't care. It might help. Consider it."

Deacon started to say no again. Then realised MacCready  _ had _ heard him talk in his sleep before and hadn't been too much of an ass about it.

"Yeah. Ok. Maybe." MacCready smiled a bit. "Once. Like one time. Just to see how it goes."

***

It goes...well. Surprisingly.

Deacon doesn't sleep the first two nights. He knows MacCready only doses in an out judging by his breathing. 

That's when he realizes it."'Mac. Hey."

MacCready makes a tired hum in response. 

"Are you still wearing the thing?" he pokes him in the ribs.

MacCready snorts inelegantly "What?"

"Chest thing."

He feels MacCready freeze up. "Yeah. Why." It's less a question and more a command for more info.

"Shouldn't that be like a thing you don't sleep in? It's all tight and shit." He moved a hand to MacCready arm like he's steadying him.

"...i mean probably not. It's not physically comfortable. But it is...emotionally? That sounds dumb," He berated himself.

"I just." he was only sort of out of his depth here. He knew people like MacCready but didn't know the feeling MacCready was having. "It's fine. With me. I won't. Like? Uh. Touch you? Or anything. Or think differently." God how had he talked to Carrington when this had come up?

MacCready hesitated. "...you really don't care do you?"

Deacon sighed in relief that MacCready understood his ramblings. "Yeah! I mean no! I don't. I don't care. Look MacCready, I just want you to be comfy. If you're not comfy and can't sleep I can't sleep. This is purely selfish."

"Right. Of course. Just. Look over there a minute."

There was a long period of shuffling. Deacon whistled annoyingly while MacCready moved about.

He finally dropped something off the side of the bed and laid back down. 

"Right." he said giving Deacon permission to look again. 

He was fully dressed but his breathing was more steady if not a bit anxious, waiting for Deacon to say something.

"Cool! Goodnight." he turned over and faked the stages of falling asleep.

Stiffly MacCready followed suit, but for real. 

When he was asleep Descon felt victorious. He didn't sleep that night. Or the next one.

But the one after that he may have dozed. And the one after that who is to say.

***

The first time he woke up wrapped around MacCready he started to panic. 

He thought he'd gotten drunk and accidentally slept with some random guy.

MacCready was laying heavy on his chest and both his arms were wrapped around him. He was breathing evenly.

Deacon hadn't held someone in a very long time. Since-

He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly.

He looked down and Barbara wasn't breathing. He tightened his grip and closed his eyes again. 

When he opened them MacCready was looking up at him. 

"D?"

Deacon cleared his throat. "Hmm? Yeah?"

"You having a nightmare?"

Deacon shrugged and loosened his grip. "Fully awake, unfortunately."

"Do you want me to get off you?" he started to move. 

Deacon tightened his grip again. "No. You're. You're good. Are you. Good?"

"Yeah. I'm comfy." he nuzzled back down. "I'm comfy. So I can sleep. So you can sleep."

Deacon let go of some tension he hadn't realised he'd been holding. 

He nodded and let himself fall asleep again.

***

Briars hurt like a goddamn son of a bitch. They were the size of a tennis ball and hurt like fuck and  _ clung _ . 

He was unhooking one from his jacket, the hooks grabbing onto his fingers as he worked it off. 

"Ow! Fucking Shi- shoot." MacCready finished lamely. He had one hanging off his stomach. "I've had like ten of these little things in the last ten freaking minutes. Hurt so bad."

"Worse than being stabbed." Deacon commented.

"Worse than being shot."

"Worse than being dumped."

"Worse than being punched by someone shorter than you." MacCready said looking down to peel another off.

"Worse than a hangnail."

"Worse than breaking your shin bone."

"Worse then pinching your finger while panicking reloading your gun."

"Worse than childbirth."

"Than fucking childbirth? Damn," Deacon whistled low.

MacCready realised what he had said and flushed with embarrassment. "Right. Forgot you'd know it was me."

"'Know what was you," he said giving MacCready an out.

"Don't be stupid, Deacon."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked reaching over to help him remove the briar

"I dont- I mean. " He sighed in frustration. "Duncan's mine and Lucy's." Deacon tracked his line of site. He looked to be trying to find something to kick. "'She was. Like me. But the other way around."

Deacon couldn't tell if he just wanted to tell someone or actually talk about it. He proceeded cautiously. "Cool. Were you happy? That's all that really matters."

MacCready watched Deacon throw the briar away. "Yeah," he paused and smiled a bit. "I really was." then frowned. "Really hated being pregnant though."

"It does seem shitty. Got you your kid though. Bet you wouldn't trade him for the world."

"God I really wouldn't. I haven't seen him in forever. Last I heard he'd grown two whole inches," he sighed. "Two. I've missed two inches."

"How old is he?" He couldn't tell if talking about his son was making him feel better or worse. 

"His sixth birthdays in a week."

Deacon almost tripped over his own feet. "How old are you?"

"I'm- ow goddam-angit!" he held his ankle where another briar held fast. 

"I'm fuckshit years old! Didn't realise we were that close in age." Deacon joked hunching down to help work the briar off. 

"I'm twenty two." He said through grit teeth.

Deacon looked up at him wide eyed through the sunglasses. 

MacCready looked down at him, "What?"

"Dude I'm like a thousand years older than you." 

MacCready rolled his eyes. "Uh huh-ow!"

"Sorry. Got it though." He threw the briar. 

"Go on. I know your like Captain Secret or whatever. But how old are you?"

He answered honestly and quickly, it caught even him by surprise. "Thirty nine." He slapped a hand over his mouth a moment then looked at MacCready in mock horror. "Oh my God I could be your father."

"Shut up your could-" he trailed off counting on his fingers. "Oh, God " he laughed. "I hate that so much."

He put a hand on his own chest and gasped dramatically "You don't like me?"

"Not even a little bit."

"I'm wounded. Ow! Literally." Deacon couldn't see the briar clinging to the back of jacket but he could feel it.

"Hold still, old man." MacCready said moving around to his back.

"For the record, hate that nickname."

MacCready just laughed. 

***

The clearing had a pond. It was pristine and strangely unirradiated. 

"Man. I sure-" MacCready was cut off by Deacon's heavy foot falls as he sprinted down the dock and launched himself into the pond. His white t shirt landed softly on the dock while the rest of him plunged in.

River cracked up, a rarity in itself. "Is it nice?"

"Come on in, Boss!" He floated backwards, sunglasses somehow still in place.

She laughed again. "I'm going to go check the house over there. I think it's pumping in clean water." she nudged MacCready, "Have fun."

"Mac! Macster. Macaroni. Get in here!" He called out splashing a bit. 

He watched MacCready take off his pack and set it next to Deacon's. He took off his jacket and shoes and socks and emptied his pockets of all the odds and ends he'd picked up throughout the trip. 

He was down to his pants and shirt. Even his hat and ammo strap lay in the pile. "You know that I can't swim right?"

"Uhh duh? Jump in! I'll get you!" Deacon encouraged. 

MacCready started to turn away and Deacon frowned. He then turned around and charged full force around and down the dock and into the water.

Deacon easily dove under and wrapped his arm around MacCready's waist and pulled him to the surface. 

MacCready sputtered a moment before wrapping an arm around Deacon's neck. 

"You good?" he asked as MacCready got oriented. 

"Yeah," he traced the large scar on Deacon's shoulder. A spot that was missing some muscles and had seen some serious trauma. "Wow. I'd ask if this hurt but there's no way it didn't." It's deep and mostly numb at this point. 

"Machete. Nearly lost my arm. Scared the shit out of the guy when I pulled it out of my shoulder and used it on him." he laughed darkly then added a little sadly, "Lost a lot of feeling in this arm though."

MacCready traced it again. "Yeah. your lucky you didn't lose it." Deacon found he didn't mind when he did that.

The sun laid in a dappled pattern across the bridge of MacCready's nose. Birds called to each other, sounding sweeter then what irradiation had turned them into. And at that moment Deacon desperately wanted to kiss him. 

He realised he'd been quiet too long. Lost in his own head, shocked that he'd feel this way ever again. 

"D?" he said shifting so both arms wrapped around his shoulders. Deacon moved both his hands to around his waist.

He laughed distractedly, "It's like we're dancing."

MacCready frowned. "I guess."

"Can I kiss you?" his words were all rushed together. All one big super word. His heart was racing and the water around him felt cold on this humid summer day.

MacCready looked at him, he blinked slowly, owlishly. "Uh, no?" he laughed and seemed to be waiting for Deacon to join him. 

Deacon didn't. 

He reached back to Deacon's face and took his sunglasses off, tucking them in the front pocket of his own shirt. "Ok yeah."

Deacon looked at him then laughed, "Oh yeah? You wanted to see my eyes even though they're going to be closed?"

"Wanted to make sure you closed them. That you weren't some wide eyed staring freak." MacCready said slapping gently at his chest.

"Oh I'm a freak, baby. the worst kind." He laughed and MacCready laughed with him. 

And leaned forward, and kissed him.


	2. Sky That Holds Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Precarious continuance down the road of discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Days by Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Deacon leaned forward against MacCready's cupped hands and inhaled as he exhaled. 

"So who's RJ?" he asked watching the joint burn down between MacCready's fingers. 

"Me, idiot."

"Some of your comics have 'Property of RJ' written in the front of them," he pointed out.

MacCready leaned back, flicking the butt of the blunt into the ashtray and pulled his hat over his eyes. "I lived in this little group of kids for years. I had to say what belonged to me or it get taken. Wasn't malicious or anything."

"What was this, an orphanage?" Deacon asked.

He peaked out from the brim, "That implies we had supervision."

MacCready smiled when Deacon laughed. 

"Sounds like a rag tag group of child vagabonds." he picked up the ashtray and held it out the broken window of the shack, bouncing it against the wall to shake anything loose. 

"Well I mean we had a leader. Elected them and everything."

"How...democratic of you." That wasn't the word he was going for but he supposed it worked. "Poor kid in charge. Lotta weight being King Rugrat."

"Uh yeah, actually, " He moved his hat back. "It was."

"Being King rugrat?"

"Yeah."

"Says who?"

"Me. I was king rugrat," MacCready said with a slight blush creeping up his neck.

Deacon stared at him for a long moment. "No way."

"Oh, shut up."

He put a hand to his chest. "Sir." he leaned forward into a bow. "It's an honor."

MacCready laughed. "Get lost."

"Does your little kiddo group still exist?"

He shrugged "I mean yeah. Obviously the members are different. Kids are forced out at sixteen." he reached for the rolling paper. "It's where Duncan would be if I'd had him younger."

He rolled the name Duncan around in his head. It always felt so weighted. 

"Shit. That is heavy. Good for whoever King Rugrat is now I guess." he watched MacCready's slender fingers roll the paper. 

"Mayor."

"What?"

"We...uh. We're called mayor."

Deacon tried not to giggle then laughed as MacCready angrily lit the blunt. 

Deacon made a little affronted noise when he blew the smoke out the window.

*

This was the second time Deacon had been taken. Like, it was getting ridiculous. 

"Do I get a pointy hat?" Deacon asked the gunner guarding his cage. 

"What?" the gunner snapped.

"If I'm a damsel in distress shouldn't I get the pointy princess hat?" he asked sincerely. 

Gunshots rang down the hall, screams and thuds sounded.

"What the fuck is that?" One gunner asked the gunner that Deacon had privately been referring to as 'His' gunner.

The door was grenaded off its hinges. MacCready followed the explosion into the room, taking out the gunner to the left before training the sniper rifle on his gunner.

"I think that's my boyfriend." Deacon said casually moving to the side as MacCready took his gunner down.

He ran to the cage and struggled to open it. He paused momentarily to take Deacon's face in his hand. "Are you ok? Are you ok?" he asked over and over, not giving him the time to reply. 

He knew he was thinner and probably dehydrated as shit. They had had him for a week. He was sore and tired and didn't feel so good. He thought about changing his face again because this one looked rough. His nose had been broken and his lip split.

He did what he was known for. "I'm fine," he lied.

MacCready started on the lock again, "C'mon, c'mon we are getting you out of here."

He half carried Deacon outside.

*

He was drunk. MacCready was drunk and he was drunk and he couldn't tell him he called him his boyfriend so he was telling him anything else.

"My parents died when I was fifteen. Watched it happened. Synths, Gen 2." He thought MacCready might ask more about the synths or what happened. 

Instead. "You knew your parents?"

He thought about it a moment. "I mean. Yeah. How young were you when you joined little lampbabys?"

He was laying next to Deacon, using Deacon's arm for a pillow. MacCready was heavy and solid and warm. 

"Lamplight," he corrected. "And I was born there. They left before I turned one. So no memory of them. So yours died." He prompted.

"Yeah. They died, I wandered around, joined a gang, left the gang, Barbara, no Barbara, railroad, boom," he gestured to them both "Now you're here. Your caught up."

"So synths killed your parents and now you actively fight for their freedom?" he gently pressed.

"I didn't know it, neither did she actually. But my Barbara? Synth. Had no idea." he gave that same bitter laugh that MacCready had in the bar all that time ago. "No wonder we couldn't have kids."

MacCready rolled over so he was facing Deacon. 

He waved a drunk hand "Sorry I pushed," he paused and looked up at him. "Are you gay today?"

"Most days. I'm half gay. Bicycle," He laughed at himself. "Bisexual. I'm bisexual. So yeah. I'm gay today."

MacCready nodded and a comfortable silence passed between then before he said. "I'm not."

"Oh." Deacon shrugged outwardly, heart turning to stone inside. "Sorry I kissed you."

MacCready huffed out between his teeth. "Na, I liked it. I just. I like you. But I'm not gay. I've always liked girls. I've always been straight. Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Deacon wrapped an arm around him.

"Make me feel all...gay? I don't know. Maybe I'm bicycle too," He paused then giggled. "Bisexual."

"Maybe you're just gay for me."

"You're special?"

Deacon laughed. "Fuck yeah."

"How'd you know you weren't straight?"

"I always thought I was. I thought everyone thought other dudes were cute or whatever. When I was in the gang they were all bigots anyway so no need to be slightly different with gay stuff. Then Barbara, and I was happy. The Railroad had me running ops though. Playing people, leaning towards their likes. I kissed a guy while undercover and thought 'Huh. I could do this again.' and it was what it was." He tried to shrug but found it difficult while being a pillow. 

"No big revelation or whatever?"

"Nope. I didn't like kiss that guy then realise holy shit half of me loves kissing dudes! It was kind of a huh. I like this too.'

He looked at him. "A bonus sort of?"

He laughed and nodded.

MacCready leaned towards him again and pressed his lips against Deacon's neck. Not really a kiss but a press.

"MacCready."

He froze like he'd been caught.

"Are you gay today?"

He stopped his lip press and said with a nervous waiver, "Yeah. A little. Just for you."

"Huh. Neat."

MacCready chuckled, "Neat he says. I kiss him and he says neat."

"Hardly a kiss!" Deacon protested.

MacCready leaned back and regrouped then leaned forward to kiss his neck again, a definite kiss.

Deacon tilted his head to the side allowing him more space.

MacCready rolled more onto his stomach and continued up and down his neck and onto his jaw. He hovered over his lips a moment. He picked Deacon's sunglasses up and tossed them onto the bedside table. 

"I really hate those." He said with a smile before kissing his lips.

Deacon laughed before groaning as he leaned up into it.

*

They hadn't fucked. They got handsy. Kinda. In that Deacon was happy to let MacCready do whatever and only progressed when he was given the go ahead.

He felt like a teen again. His first girlfriend was similar in that he let her control the pace. He just wanted everyone to be comfortable and have a nice time.

And holy shit was he having a nice time.

He still didn't have any form of a term for their togetherness. Dating? Friends? Fuck, he didn't know but he knew in his own head things were slightly closer than he'd willingly admit.

They were two totally broken people who tried this love thing before with similar results. 

He wasn't expecting much.

He knew he still talked in his sleep. But he was actually sleeping. MacCready was like some sort of weight that held him down so he'd stay in bed and actually let himself rest.

Nightmares didn't come often anymore. When they did he was there, rubbing at his face and shoulder and talking quietly. Deacon tired to return the favor when of his own would happen. Risked kissing his forehead even.

Fuck he was in it.

*

They were shaving using the same mirror, the house in Sanctuary that had once been River's home. She'd muttered that she couldn't be there anymore and let her friends at it. 

MacCready and Deacon shared a room, Cait and Piper across the way. Deacon didn't think they had their beds shoved together like he and MacCready did.

MacCready was looking from side to side at how even his sideburns were. Deacon watched him a moment before dotting his nose with shaving cream. MacCready blinked in surprise before letting out a small burst of giggles. 

He wiped his face then handed Deacon the washrag. He dug around in his kit he brought with him to the bathroom, pulling out what looked like a Med-X needle. 

"You hurt?" Deacon asked, patting his face dry.

"Nah. Just," He injected himself, "Like this whole growing a beard thing. It's some chem that lets me be all outside guyish to match the inside."

He felt it was somehow important that MacCready had shared this with him, but knew better than to linger on it too long or he'd get uncomfortable. 

"You want to help me shave my head?" He sprayed a glob of shaving cream onto his head and looked at expectantly at him.

MacCready cracked up. "That's a good look right there quite frankly."

Deacon smoothed the cream out and sprayed more on and shaped it into a hairstyle. "Hey there, baby. You come here often?"

He shot some finger guns at MacCready who lost it all over again. 

Deacon let himself be led over to the closed toilet. MacCready took the razor from him. "So are you blonde? Your eyebrows are so light."

"Don't you tell a fucking soul. But no. Redhead. Bright orange. Real vibrant."

"No way!"

"Oh yeah. Stick out like a sore thumb." He chuckled. "Switch through wigs all the time because even they are more subtle than the real deal."

"You know for a guy who fights to stay hidden, you sure were meant to stick out," He said concentrating on his work. 

Deacon sighed. "Maybe in another life I was a real looker."

"You look fine in this one."

"Just fine?" he pouted. 

"Don't push it, D."

*

He came running into Hotel Rexford. The agent Deacon had been talking too almost bolted but Deacon gave him a reassuring look. 

"Deacon!" MacCready looked the happiest he'd seen him...well ever.

"Hey. Give me a second I'll be right over. Grab us some beers from River's pet brewery robot," He instructed calmly. 

He deflated a little but walked away so Deacon could finish his impromptu meeting. 

He joined MacCready after. "What is it?"

The enthusiasm was quickly resumed. "There's these old cameras and they-" his hand traced shapes through the air as he talked trying to articulate his words. "They just pop a picture out! Like it's all there! You can't bend them or anything but like there's a keepsake in the palm of your hand."

Deacon raised an eyebrow. "Polaroids? Ok."

"Wait you knew about them- of course you did," He rolled his eyes, "Right. I'm stupid."

He touched his shoulder. "You aren't stupid. Sorry. I'm being an ass. I've seen a few working ones. Did you find one?"

A little bit of that light returned. "No, but I guess the caravan that takes stuff back and forth between me and the capital does and they took this!" he fumbled through his front pocket and pulled out a Polaroid picture. 

It was slightly off angle but the image was clear. A kid with curly hair sticking out every which way, dark skin and missing teeth. His smile though, that was all MacCready. 

"Is this Duncan?" he asked.

MacCready's smile matched the one in the photo. 

Duncan appeared to be mid laugh, eyes squeezed shut. He had a bandaid on his cheek and was clearly in the process of losing some front teeth. 

"That, Mac, is one cute ass kid," he said handing the photo back.

MacCready smiled at it again. "God, he looks so much like his mother. Oh! I didn't show you the best part," he flipped the picture over and shoved it back into Deacon's hands. On the back in barely legible ballpoint pen was the words 'I' and 'you' with a heart in the middle. 'Daddy!' was written underneath with a '-Duncan' after it. The lower case 'd's in 'daddy' were backwards so it technically said 'Dabby!' and the last 'n' was backwards as well. 

Deacon looked to MacCready who looked close to tears. "He's so big. He's writing. I'm so, so proud of him, D."

He handed the photo back to him once more. "You should bring him here." MacCready started to protest. "Not now, obviously. But like, when River gets her kid and I personally tear down the Institute brick by brick. Maybe Shaun and Duncan could be buds."

He looked at the picture then up at Deacon again. "Really? Do you think?"

Deacon nodded. "Yeah. I'll be his weird uncle."

MacCready' smile threatened to split his face again. 

*

It was the beginning of the end. He could feel it in his bones. River had been working on making  something  with Tinker Tom. He hadn't been allowed to know. She would just take Dogmeat and disappear to a different empty settlement. 

She had run out of something though. Something she needed. That's the only reason he could figure they taken the short trek up to the vault behind Sanctuary. Her vault. 

He could hear Dogmeats claws on the sheet metal floor as he trotted around behind her. She bypassed some rooms with such expediency that Deacon didn't have to ask what happened in them. 

She started digging into a control panel single mindedly, waving Deacon and MacCready off to 'Go have fun or whatever.'

Deacon tried to reason with her but found himself talking to an impassive brick wall. 

He went off to find MacCready who upon being dismissed had wandered off. 

He found him in some quarters staring longingly at a shower stall. 

"You know the water still works down here. You could probably use it." Deacon said politely. 

MacCready nudged the nozzle and a slow stream of water trickled from the shower head. He glanced at Deacon with a pleased smile hiding around the corners of his lips. 

He moved around Deacon and went and locked the bathroom door. He started the shower at full pressure and started to get undressed. 

Deacon had been fully ready to leave. Walk out those doors and give him the privacy he'd assumed he'd wanted. 

He was staring a little. He'd never seen him naked before. He touched some  stuff but it was always a hand pushed up under clothes and felt through layers. 

And despite MacCready skin and bones figure, he had a really nice ass. 

He'd been allowed to be in the bathroom but he wasn't sure to what extent. 

MacCready got into the shower and pulled the little curtain around. After a long moment he called "You coming?"

Deacon tripped to get out of his clothing, a moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness. 

He stood then facing the plastic curtain like an unnamed foe.

He took a deep breath and pushed it aside. 

MacCready didn't turn to face him. Didn't even open his eyes. His back was turned and his head tilted slightly out of the water. 

"The water is even warm," he said almost dreamily. 

Deacon moved steadily up behind him and slowly wrapped his arms around his ribs. 

MacCready leaned into him and Deacons heart soared. 

They were quiet for an unknown amount of time. Deacon's internal clock thrown off rhythm by the pounding in his ears. 

He calmed down slowly when MacCready spoke. "Do you want to fuck me?"

His quick wit failed him and stuttered, "Like right now?"

MacCready huffed out a small laugh. "No, D. Not right now."

His racing mind slowed back to normal. "Oh thank God, I don't have rubber gloves, a garden hoe, or even cooking oil. All the standard stuff."

"You're so weird." he laughed. He dislodged himself from Deacon's arms and grabbed the soap from the holder and handed it to him. 

Deacon took this to mean he'd been assigned a task. 

After a while he picked up the shampoo and motioned for MacCready turn around and leaned back against him.

It was cathartic and strange. He hadn't had hair of his own to wash in forever but this minor act of service felt so nice for him, he hoped MacCready was enjoying it. 

He made a soft noise when Deacon used his knuckles against his scalp. 

He thought just maybe it felt nice for him too.

*

He'd been quiet. River talked to him here and there but they were both only speaking in commands and need to know basis. 

MacCready had been left at Tenpines Bluff while River and Deacon had finished...it. Everything. 

He turned right before the bridge that led into sanctuary hills and headed towards the eastern settlement. River nodded her consent. 

When he arrived he looked for MacCready, ignoring the other settlers asking about the noise, the smell, what happened in the city?

He found MacCready laughing and smiling as he taught some pre teens how to shoot cans that were balanced on the edge of a destroyed house. 

Deacon paused and watched him. He was bent down and pointing outward, speaking quietly to the young girl. He helped her aim, told some joke that made her smile, then guided her through firing. 

When the can fell the little group cheered. 

He smiled at them all and Deacon needed him closer immediately. 

He walked through the kids, pushing past them till he got to their teacher.

"D, you're back-" Deacon interrupted him by grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him. 

He'd unintentionally dipped him slightly, forcing MacCready to wrap his arms around his neck, much like the first time they kissed. 

Some of the kids yelled variations of 'ew!' or made grossed out noises. One boy watched like he was discovering an unforetold secret. 

He kissed him till they were both breathless. He pulled back just enough to look at MacCready's face. He expected him to be annoyed or disgusted with him, but he was smiling that rare big smile of his. 

"Hey, D."

Deacon watched him for a long moment. A lump forming in his throat, "Hey, Mac."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready 4 sum heckin.


	3. Into Air So Clear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar feeling of firsts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title from Albert Cuyp I by Proust
> 
> Spoiler for Glory during the events of the main questline.
> 
> Tags have updated and you may notice that oh heck theres smut. Be aware <3

MacCready was uh...vocal during sex. 

He grunted and moaned and would start saying things only to be cut off by his own voice breaking or a full body shiver. 

Deacon was surprised, to say the least. He was the quiet type. Had to be with the whole 'spy' thing. He would make enough noise to convey he was enjoying it or do whatever he'd figured the mark would want him too. But usually? He was pretty quiet. 

MacCready was also a sight to fucking behold. He had his back arched and hands were clawing at the sleeping bag underneath him. Toes curled, hat no longer on his head but trapped above him where he was laying on the brim. He was fully dressed other then his shoes. His pants where trapped around his thighs and he kept trying to spread his legs but was immobilized.

Deacon was next to him, bent over him, one hand causing the noises as he pressed, teased, and thrust his fingers into him. He was biting at his chest. His jacket unbuttoned and button down shirt open, the white t shirt that Deacon suspected used to be his was pushed up. 

Deacon did something right with his fingers and MacCready's eyes flew open as he let out a breathless plea that was lost as his voice failed him. Deacon repeated the treatment, his moans and half words encouraging him. 

He laved a tongue over his nipple as he continued the pace he'd set with his hand. Biting and releasing and utterly  _ toying _ with him.

He got some lost comment from MacCready as he froze up and moved his hand to Deacon's wrist to hold him in place. Little sounds fell out forgotten as he came. 

He stayed tense like that for a long moment before falling back down onto the sleeping bag breathlessly, bonelessly. 

He panted and breathed heavily for a long moment as Deacon moved back to lay next to him. 

"Fuck," he said as his breathing evened out. 

"Language," Deacon smiled, "I know some tricks."

"I'll say," he swallowed and adjusted his clothing. "And swearing during sex doesnt count." A few moments of buttoning and zipping and he looked as if nothing had happened. Well clothing wise. He was still holding himself loosely and his jaw was slightly slack. He pushed his hat out of the way as he threw an arm over Deacon's middle, rolling over. "Remind me to go on more road trips with you."

Deacon laughed. 

The road to the Capital Wasteland was well traveled but still extensive. Both of their paranoias having them camped farther away from the road. It turned out to be a good call seeing as how the evening had progressed. 

"Should I?" he gestured to Deacon's jeans. 

"Nah. I mean this is definitely not the first time I've had someone fall asleep on me," he chuckled. 

MacCready frowned. "No. Nope. Don't like that answer." he moved around, crawling down Deacon's body stopping at the zipper to his jeans. 

"You really don't have to," he tried. 

"Wanna," he said back unzipping them. He leaned forward and kissed Deacon's hip bone, biting lightly at the skin and pressing his hands up under Deacon's back to get him to lift his hips. 

Deacon complied and watched him. He was utterly fascinated and completely unsure of how to react. Should he make noise? Would MacCready let him put his hand in his hair? 

Would he swallow? 

The last thought caused him to sigh in frustrated anticipation. 

He stopped and looked at him "D. I want this to be about you. I'm good. I want you to be happy. I want you to feel good," He said pausing to check in with him. 

Deacon paused and looked down at him, then nodded.

He forgot himself about halfway through and came silently mouthing 'Mac' in a desperate rush of air. 

***

"I-uh-hoo boy," MacCready mumbled as words escaped him. They were on the edge of his friend's. farm. The youngest kids were playing outside, laughter and smiles abound. 

  
  


MacCready looked more ready to eat his hat then talk to them. 

  
  


He walked on the edge of the group, nervously picking at the stitching on his exposed shirt sleeve. 

  
  


Some of the kids regarded him warily. Moving smaller kids out of the way, making efforts to let MacCready know he was being watched. 

  
  


Deacon saw him first but didn't say anything. Just stood quietly with a slowly growing smile until the kid plowed head first into MacCreadys' stomach, bowling him over. 

  
  


He coughed and splattered, looking down at the kid wrapped around him. 

  
  


Deacon lit up as their eyes met. 

  
  


MacCready looked at him, eyes wet before breaking out into that smile. 

  
  


The kids smile mirrored his own. 

*

"So that's your dad? He's so tall! And white!"

Deacon laughed at the kids questioning of MacCready's son. He supposed MacCready was tall if he was being compared to the height of the literal children speaking.

Duncan kept smiling, "Yeah! I'm going to be that tall one day," he said very matter o-factly.

"Who's the bald guy?" another one called. 

Duncan turned to MacCready. "Oh uh. He's my-" he stuttered a moment. 

Deacon had wondered about this. Friend? Buddy? Pal? Body guard? Hired gun? Hair stylist? 

"Boyfriend."

Oh. 

"So you're like my dad too." Duncan stated.

Deacon tried to intervene but MacCready just shrugged, "Suppose, if he's up to it."

Duncan laughed, "Let me go get my things!"

Deacon watched MacCready as he smiled so earnestly to himself. He didnt know what Duncan had been like when he was sick, but he seemed like a normal happy kid and Deacon had to assume that was an improvement. 

MacCready smiled and held his hand out to Deacon. 

Deacon stared at it for a long moment. He wiggled his fingers and Deacon took it cautiously. 

The kids swarmed Duncan as he went and got his things. Deacon let go of MacCready's hand to take the bag of Duncan's things. 

He found his friend and spoke with him about Duncan's departure. Saying some kind words Deacon didn't really listen to. He noticed the caps bag pressed into his friend's hand followed by a hug then a punch to the shoulder. 

He thinks Mac may have called his friend a mango? He wasn't sure. 

The kids yelled it after Duncan as they walked out. 

He was way to big but MacCready picked Duncan up anyway. 

*

"Deacon?" the kid asked as they walked. It had been a few days now. The walk back to the Commonwealth was already lengthy. Their youngest traveler didn't exactly speed up the process. 

"Yeah kid." he had his gun slung over his shoulder. Ready to defend while MacCready led Duncan by the hand. 

"What's your first name?"

MacCready spoke before he did, "It's complicated."

"That's dumb. What's hard about a first name. You have two," He pointed out reasonably. 

"Joseph's my middle name," MacCready said not following the reasoning. 

"No. RJ and Robert. Deacon do you want one of Daddys?" he asked looking to Deacon. 

Deacon chuckled. "I'm alright. He's got them all taken care of for me."

"Can I give you one?"

He smiled. "Hell yeah! Uh," he glanced at MacCready who was glaring at him. "Heck yeah, little buddy."

"President." he nodded.

"President Deacon? That's a nice name. More of a title though." Deacon said trying it out. 

"Bob."

Deacon blinked. "Bob. Bob Deacon? That was you've chosen for me?"

"Bob Deacon or Deacon Bob," he said seriously.

MacCready was biting his lip to keep from laughing. 

"How about I just tell you my real name and we can go off that." He stopped and kneeled down next to him. "It's a secret though. So you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even your dad." Deacon mimed zipping his lips and Duncan copied it. 

He leaned in and whispered to the kid then stood up. Duncan looked up at him annoyed. "That's the stupidest first name. I know five kids with that name."

"It's a secret! You promised!"

Duncan sighed. "Yeah. I suppose I did,' he looked up at him. 'Can you carry me on your shoulders again?"

Deacon handed his gun over to MacCready and hoisted him up. 

A few hours later he had Duncan in his arms, asleep as they walked. 

"Did you really tell him your name?" MacCready asked quietly. 

"Yeah but it's like he said. It's the stupidest name ever," he said over his shoulder. 

"Worse then Bob?"

He grimaced, "Nothing's worse than Bob, Bobby."

MacCready laughed and they lapsed back into a comfortable silence. 

They set up camp for the night a bit later. Duncan tucked farthest back in the tent while Deacon and MacCready shared a sleeping bag closer to the entrance. 

MacCready was, as usual, mostly on top of Deacon but his hat was firmly on Duncan's sleeping head.

"You're really good with him," he muttered quietly. 

Deacon beamed. He'd never was sure if how he interacted with kids was at all 'good' or 'bad' 

"Thanks."

They hadn't talked about MacCready calling him his boyfriend. He didn't really think they needed too. It felt right. It felt good. 

"Its John. If you were wondering."

MacCready looked at him before saying quietly. "He's right. That is the stupidest name ever," he kissed the underside of his chin. "Night, John."

"Night, Robert."

MacCready laughed. "Mac is fine."

"I prefer D myself."

"Agreed," he kissed the same spot and nestled down to sleep.

*

He had one of his wrists pinned above his head. He let go of it to move his fingers into MacCready's mouth. 

Deacon licked and sucked and worried at the skin on Mac's neck while moving his hand down between MacCready's legs. 

His left hand repinned MacCready's wrist by his waist against the wall. 

MacCready was gasping and trembling. One leg steadily inching up Deacon's hip. 

They'd had to leave Sanctuary. Just a settlement over. A settlement that hadn't been settled yet. 

It was very empty and MacCready could make as much noise as desired. Which was kind of exactly what Deacon was going for.

Deacon had begged off a night with him, asked Curie so politely if she'd watch Duncan. She really seemed to like him and Duncan her. 

He'd packed up and surprised MacCready with it. Framing it as a cute getaway picnic thing. 

Really his dick was hard.

Deacon had MacCready up against a wall of the inside of the Red Rocket station, taking him apart slowly but efficiently. 

He had him stripped from the waste down, only his t-shirt that he was sure was his now, remained. It had been easier to convince him pants weren't necessary when he'd had his leg thrown over Deacon's shoulder. 

MacCready was panting as Deacon worked him closer to coming again, kissing him and wondering if he could still taste himself on his lips.

"D-"

He knew that voice. MacCready was actively trying to ask for something. He slowed but didn't stop.

"D, please-" his breathing stuttered a moment when Deacon did something particularly cruel with his fingers. 

He took pity on him and let him speak again. "Fuck- Fuck me? Fuck me. Fuck me!"

He looked in surprise at him, "You sure?"

"Yes. Yes! Fuck, D-"

Deacon stepped back from him completely, pulling off his shirt and trying to quickly get his pants down. 

MacCready was making it more difficult by trailing his hands up his sides, sliding his fingers teasingly into the waistband of his underwear. 

Mac bit his collarbone hard enough in a way that was sure to leave a mark. 

Deacon fucking  _ wanted _ him.

He moved back against him and pressed MacCready against the wall again, Hands sliding down his ass and to the back of his thighs where he lifted MacCready up. 

He caught his eye, "Good?"

"For the love of fuck, D, if you dont-"

Deacon moved to tease the head of his cock at MacCready's entrance. 

MacCready's arms moved around his neck as his hands scrambled for purchase as Deacon moved inwards. 

They both groaned.

As Deacon slowly started to move MacCready bit down on his unscared shoulder and Deacon gasped.

He panted, turning away so he wouldn't be unsexily breathing directly into MacCready's ear.

He could feel MacCready moving to lock his ankles together behind Deacon, then leaning more heavily against the wall as he moved a hand between them to help get himself off.

Deacon moved so he could lean his head against his collarbone and watch. 

MacCready shuddered under his gaze and pleaded for  _ something _ . The words more, harder and  _ right there _ getting lost in whimpers and heavy breathing. 

He tensed up a long moment, stealing Deacon's breath away as he shuddered through his orgasm.

Deacon doubled his efforts, eyes falling shut as he got lost in the sensation of him.

He vocally groaned out 'Mac' when he came. His usual breathless words taking form in a moment of clarity, quickly crashing and washing away as his muscles unlocked. 

He nearly fucking dropped him.

He felt MacCready unhook his ankles and reach his feet to the ground. He untangled from Deacon and slid down the wall, landing on his own abandoned jacket.

Deacon joined him on the floor. 

He leaned his head on his shoulder as he faced him, trying to even out his breathing. MacCready wrapped an arm around him. 

"Holy shit, D."

"Alright?"

He looked up at him, "Uh. Fuck yeah?" he let out a breathy laugh, "This turned out better then the little picnic you had pretended it was."

"What gave me away?" he asked, surprised. 

MacCready pointed to their abandoned packs, among which their food lay. "Sort of jumping was a hint."

Deacon laughed till his side's hurt.

*

They were getting ready to go back to Sanctuary when Deacon blurted "So can you get preg-"

"No."

"Are you sure, it happened befo-"

"Yes."

He out his hands up in apology, "Sorry. I just-" 

MacCready had his arms crossed and was staring at him pointedly. "Ah. Sorry," he settled on. 

  
  


MacCready sighed, annoyed. "New topic of conversation."

  
  


"You ever fire a crossbow?"

  
  


Even though he'd asked for it he still seemed startled by the sudden change in conversation. "Fired a what?"

  
  


"Bow and arrow but cooler."

  
  


MacCready gave him an interested look as they began across the bridge into Sanctuary, "Do tell."

*

He saw her head lull to the side. 

"Synths feel pain. Hurts just like a person. Just as if it were you or me." rang in his ears distantly. Like the UP Deathclaw was speaking to him in an echo, or through a tunnel.

  
  


He laughed, cDo you think it will hurt as bad for you?" he smiled in an almost friendly manner at the gang member.

  
  


"What will?"

  
  


He grabbed his skull and forced his thumbs into his eyes and said evenly, calmly, "When I fucking kill you."

  
  


His eyes snapped open. It was quiet and dark. He wasn't moving, he wasn't trying to choke MacCready out who was sleeping peacefully on his chest. It was calm. 

  
  


That somehow made him angrier. 

  
  


He got up quietly, MacCready sleepily asked him where he was going but Deacon just encouraged him to go back to sleep.

  
  


He glanced at Duncan a long moment in the other room. They'd moved to their own house in Sanctuary. A happy little family. He looked at Duncan another long moment then stocked out. 

  
  


He felt rage boiling under his skin. His muscles ached to flex in the act of hitting something. He went outside. 

  
  


How dare they? They were mad at him. They were mad at him and they fucking took it out on her. It was nonsensical bigoted bullshit. 

  
  


He hadn't let himself think of those moments in so long. The dream, the nightmare dragging them all from the mental box he'd dumped them in to deal with never never. 

  
  


He wanted to get high or drunk or still fucking hit something.

  
  


Grief was a bitch.

  
  


He walked out behind the houses where a playground rusted away. He laid down on the ground and fisted the grass as if to keep himself from floating away like some sort of pissed off storm cloud.

  
  


"You ever punch something so hard you broke your hand? hurts like a bloody bitch."

  
  


"Yes," he responded before his brain fully caught up to the accent wrapped around the words. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Cait?" his words had no padding. His intent clear. Fuck off.

  
  


"Do you want to punch me?" she asked laying down next to him.

  
  


"What?" he sat up on an elbow and looked at her. "No of course not."

  
  


She rolled her eyes, "I've got a boxing ring set up."

  
  


"Cait, I'll kick your fucking ass."

  
  


She laughed, "I'd like to see you try, pretty boy."

  
  


They ended up being farely well matched. She was good and he was struggling to keep up.

  
  


His jaw hurt and he went through another pair of sunglasses. 

  
  


"What's got you off your game, you and loverboy have a spat?" she asked blocking a jab.

  
  


He huffed, "I'm not here to vent, Cait. Just punch."

  
  


"Does he have a weird thin dick? I just sort of always got that feeling from him." She landed a blow on his ribs.

  
  


"Mac and I are fine, thank you for your concern," he returned the blow.

  
  


"Well I'm glad you and old skinny penis are well," she said with a calmness betrayed by her left hook. 

  
  


He laughed at that and something loosened in his chest. She punched him a second after that square in the chest and he fell to the mats.

  
  


He felt somehow better.

*

He was the most vocal he'd ever been and that was saying something. 

He was on his knees, pillowing his head on his arms, they being the only defense against the parking structures concrete ground. 

Deacon had had this done to him twice, and MacCready hadn't really spared a comment on his past experiences. He knows that this time MacCready would easily make number one out of the entire top three times he's been rimmed. 

Deacon groaned, his fingers clenched so tightly he knew his hands would be sore later. 

However many times MacCready had done this before he'd picked up some tricks along the way. 

Like the one he was doing right now oh  _ fucking Christ. _

He'd tried to wrap a hand around himself but every time MacCready had just batted him away. 

He was losing his fucking mind. He whined long sufferingly as his hand was pushed away again. 

"Mac- Mac please-"

Was he crying? Maybe not like actively but a tear ran across his nose from where his head was tilted. 

MacCready readjusted his grip on Deacon's ass and he redoubled his efforts.

He was grinding back against his face at this point. MacCready seemed unbothered and Deacon was going to kill him? Maybe. Fuck. 

He realised he was chanting 'please' slightly. Slightly meaning definitely. His usual silence left with his sanity that Mac seemed determined to tear from him.

He hands were clenching and unclenching as finally, _finally_ _fuck, _he wrapped his hand around his dick. 

Mary fucking wept indeed.

Deacon bit down on his own hand and cried out.

He think he came for approximate time table of exactly forever. 

MacCready solidly maintaining his efforts till Deacon collapsed out from under him.

He was swearing a blue streak and sweating through his shirt. He thought he might be dead? 

Deacon rolled onto his side and looked up at MacCready who was looking smugly down at him.

"Shut up," he gasped at him.

MacCready burst out laughing.

***

  
  


MacCready had been so happy since Duncan had come home with him. Deacon didn't forget that MacCready had nightmares or memories. It just sort of floated to the back of his mind. 

  
  


Until he was dragging him off a feral. He'd punched it's face in and completely destroyed it. He was scraping his knuckles on broken bone and yelling. 

  
  


Deacon had an arm around his stomach, lifted him fully and bodily off the dead ghoul. 

  
  


MacCready tried to push his arm away and continue. 

  
  


"Mac! Mac, hey!" he pulled him close to his chest even as he tried to fight him off. "Hey! RJ. It's ok. Hey, man. Hey shh it's ok." he was petting the base of his scalp while keeping his other arm locked around him.

  
  


MacCready slowed his attacks. His body shaking on adrenalin and at whatever he was seeing. He stopped fighting and stared vacantly at the ghoul. 

  
  


Deacon kept petting his hair. "Ok? Alright? Mac? RJ? What do you need?"

  
  


Even though MacCready's breathing had just evened out, he broke the streak of steady breaths as a well of tears brimmed. 

  
  


"Shit," he muttered. 

  
  


Deacon thought about making a joke. Calling out his language or something when he broke out into a sob. 

  
  


Deacon held him. River stood over MacCready's shoulder a moment and Deacon shook his head, willing her to go away. She did.

  
  


"F-Fuck. Fuck, D. Fuck." he swore so rarely outside of sex that Deacon would have been aware something was wrong just from that had he not been there for the start of this episode. 

  
  


He kissed his cheek then temple letting the heavy breathing and tears calm down. 

  
  


He was shaking slightly still but Deacon didn't comment on it.

  
  


"I've got you."

  
  


He took a deep breath then leaned away from him. "Did you call me RJ?"

  
  


He smiled crookedly at him, "That's what you took away from this?"

*

MacCready was curled up on the bathroom floor of The Hotel Rexford. The contents of his stomach were currently outside his body and Deacon felt that's probably one of the last places one probably wants those to be. 

  
  


He was shirtless. Not even Deacons t-shirt on him which was fairly standard for his own comfort when his chest binder was off. 

  
  


He still had on his pants and ammo belts, claimed the cool bathroom floor kept him from getting overheated but his legs being clothed 'Balanced out the hot and cold'.

  
  


Deacon had MacCready's head in his lap, petting over his sweaty hair that frequently found its way to being plastered to his forehead. He'd help him sit up to wretch stomach vile then lay back down. 

  
  


"Am I dying?" he asked in a pathetic mumble. 

  
  


"No, RJ, you aren't dying."

  
  


"Yes I am. You only call me RJ when it's bad." he shivered, his whole body wracked with it.

  
  


"You're drugged, Robert, not dying."

He maneuvered to sit up. "Wish it killed me. This is fuc-freaking awful." he leaned to again, trying not to dry heave he added, "Robert. Ug."

He'd been at the third rail when someone slipped something in his drink. MacCready had beat some lady at darts. She bought him a drink to 'celebrate his win'. Apparently she was a far more sore loser than previously thought. 

"Can you drink some water for me, Bobby?" he held the canteen up. 

He took it with shaking hands, "That alone is going to make me puke all over again," he sipped at it then laid back down. "If this is how I go, tell Duncan he gets everything," he sighed, closing his eyes. 

"Everything everything? Even your guns?" He egged on. He didn't want him to fall asleep on the bathroom floor and trap him down there. 

"Especially my guns. You don't get anything." He tucked his face to the side. 

"He's eight!"

"Well past due," he punctuated his sentence with a sleepy noise. 

Deacon sighed and continued petting his hair as he dozed.

  
  


*

His fist slammed against the HalluciGen front door, it's automated system taking an extra moment before opening. He ran into the sunlight where MacCready had been guarding out front. 

"Fuck. Fuck, Mac, please-" he scrabbled for purchase on the front of MacCready's jacket and settled with wrapping his hand around the front of his shirt and hoisting him forward to kiss him. MacCready flailed but Deacon kept kissing him, starting at the buttons of his shirt. 

  
  


He moved his hands away and after a moment managed to push Deacon off who kept leaning forward to kiss him.

  
  


"D? Not that I'm not happy to see you too but what is currently happening?"

  
  


"I almost fucked Danse!" he blurted and tried to kiss him again. 

  
  


MacCready grabbed the back of his shirt and hauled him backwards. "Come again?"

  
  


"Fog in-in the building. Makes everyone look good. Kiss me?" he asked hoping MacCready would reward his attempts at explaining. 

"It changes your appearance?" he asked still holding him by the collar.

  
  


"No! Makes you want to fuck. I want to fuck. Can I fuck you? Can you fuck me? Jesus Christ, Mac!" he sighed in frustration before trying to breathe in the fresh air outside, try to clear the chemicals from his lungs. 

  
  


MacCready stared at him for a long moment then burst out laughing. "Having a bad day, D? Or should I say a  _ hard _ one?' he cackled and Deacon had a moment where he considers just starting to scream and possibly never stopping. 

  
  


He turned back towards the building. "I'll fuck Danse after all. Giant tin can asshole."

  
  


MacCready grabbed him by the back of his shirt again and Deacon was getting really goddamn tired of that. 

  
  


"Goodneighbor is right there," he reminded calmly.

  
  


"Great! I'll Fuck a ghoul!"

  
  


MacCready laughed at him again and started pulling him towards it, "So is a very gross hotel. That has privacy."

  
  


Deacon let it register then started running ahead of him, grabbing MacCready's hand, "Come on!"

*

"You're a leftie, so why-"

  
  


Deacon held a hand up forcing Duncan to pause, "Wait I'm sorry. How the Fu-" Duncan looked up at him daring him to, "Heck. Do you know that?"

  
  


"You've trained yourself to use your right hand and stuff but you are," he continued. "So why do you do that? You write with your right hand you shoot with it. Why?"

  
  


"Lefties stand out." which was true. 

  
  


"Half truths count as a lie!" Duncan asserted looking up from his book. MacCready smiled at him and Deacon felt slightly betrayed. 

  
  


He frowned, "I can't feel my ring or pinkie finger on my left hand. Gotta a lot of nerve damage. I can bend them sorta," he showed them. They bent in half but wouldn't curl tightly into a fist. He could still aim better with that hand.

  
  


MacCready nodded, accepting the admission. 

  
  


"How'd you know?" he asked again surprised. 

  
  


"You eat with your left, scratch itches with your left, and tickle me with your left, Dad," Duncan said this time not looking up from his book. 

  
  


Deacon and MacCready shared a look over his head.

  
  


Holy shit. Dad. 

  
  


MacCready spoke when Duncan finally glanced up as if seeing if calling him that was an appropriate test of the waters. "Duncan actually noticed it. I hadn't," he smiled at Duncan proudly and Deacon barely registered it.

  
  


He was too busy smiling to himself. 

  
  


*

Deacon had punched a tree. 

His whole body was trembling with anger, could barely feel his completely fucked hand as he reared back to hit it again. 

River grabbed his elbow, "Enough, Deacon."

He shot her such a look he thought his sunglasses might break. 

Glory had died years ago but because he was who he was he'd never actually taken the time to process it, to mourn. 

They'd been moving some synths to a safe house and he'd turned as casual as ever to ask her something. And she wasn't there.

Grief was a bitch. 

River didn't ask what had happened, just handed him a stimpack.

He injected himself and also accepted the offered bandage to wrap his hand. 

His hand hurt, but he didn't cry. He couldn't remember the stages of grief but he knew anger was one of them. And boy wasn't he just. 

*

He froze. They were playing soccer and MacCready had just stopped.

  
  


Duncan kicked the ball to him and he let it hit his legs. 

  
  


Deacon recognized that far away look. He picked up Duncan and swung him around a moment. "Hey go make Nick show you how to kick a ball in a rainbow."

  
  


"He can do that?" Duncan asked wide eyed.

  
  


"No idea, go find out!" he set him off and away. 

  
  


He came up behind MacCready and watched him stare unseeingly. He took his hands and watched him slowly process his presence. 

  
  


"Freckles. She had freckles in the dark of her eyes and-and when they caught light they shined." he muttered turning his hands over in his. "I-" his voice left him a moment. "I couldn't remember. Her eyes. I couldn't remember her eyes."

  
  


He watched him for a long time as he came back to himself, "Sorry."

  
  


Deacon nodded. He thought about saying something about Barbara's eyes. 

Instead, "Yours are blue. Dark, stormy. They get really grey and steely when you're crying. Usually they look brown because of your hat shadowing them."

  
  


MacCready was holding his hand so tightly he was almost shaking. "That was poetic as all can be."

  
  


"I own multiple poetry books. You want to borrow one?"

  
  


MacCready let out a pained small laugh. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow holy heck we did it, kids. 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me and I hope you liked it.
> 
> Thank you to @teejcandraw for being the whole reason I felt comfortable posting this and being my eternal partner in crime. 
> 
> And to @cutearson who is the pun to my tired sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> I know MacCready can swim in game but I feel that's to make it easier game mechanic wise.


End file.
